hold it, but Bernie Wilberts had told her that she could simply leave a check on the table when she left. She’d been very careful to explain that she would arrive on Sunday, but he’d told her it didn’t matter, that the cottage was empty. He’d given her the combination code for the lock on the door.
If Summer had been around, Trish would have told her about her plans. She’d thought about telling Milo, but given his propensity to worry about her, she’d thought better of it. She’d tell him just before she left town.
She turned to walk back to the kitchen and stopped abruptly when there was intense pounding on the door. Her heart leaped in her chest. It was like that night so long ago. She turned.
And through the glass, she saw Keagan, her fourteen-year-old nephew. With five-year-old Adie next to him. Summer and Bray were a little slower to get out of the SUV.
She opened the door and the four of them tumbled in. “What are you doing home?” she asked, hugging each of the kids. Then Bray. Finally, her sister. She hung on an extra minute. She knew why her sister was here. “You shouldn’t have,” she whispered.
Summer shook her head. “When I told Bray what today was,” she said, grabbing her new husband’s hand, “he changed our flight so that we could get back. He insisted.”
She rolled her eyes in her brother-in-law’s direction. “I guess I do understand why she loves you,” she said.
Bray winked at her and focused on Adie, who had found her favorite seat at the counter and was whirling on the stool at warp speed.
“How are you feeling?” Trish asked, looking at Summer’s still-flat stomach.
“Fine. But anything that went in circles at Disney World was Bray’s domain. I stood on the sidelines and ate orange Popsicles.”
It was unbelievable that Summer and Bray would be adding to their family in just seven more months. More proof that life really did go on. She drew in a breath and smiled. “Well, Milo was insisting on a movie tonight. I guess you’re all excited to see Pretty Woman one more time.”
“How did you know that was my favorite movie?” Bray asked with a straight face.
Summer lightly punched her husband’s biceps before turning back to Trish. “I’m sure you’re glad that you’re not holding down the fort alone any longer. Next week, I want you to rest up. You will take a couple of days off, right?”
“I think I will,” Trish said.
“Where’s Milo?” Summer asked, moving quickly to the next topic.
She could tell them both about her plans. “Taking out the garbage. I’ll get him.”
Trish went through the swinging door that connected the dining room to the kitchen. No Milo. The back door was open just a fraction of an inch, letting the cool spring air blow in. The light near the back door was on.
“Milo,” she called, walking toward the door. “Summer and Bray are—”
She opened the back door and almost tripped. On a body.
Milo. Oh my God. “What happened?” she asked, dropping to her knees.
There was blood everywhere. On his body, on the pavement, running out of the side of his mouth. “Milo,” she cried, reaching to lift his head off the cold, hard ground.
“Trish,” he said, his breaths raspy. “Tell Rafe they know.”
He closed his eyes and she started to scream.
Tell Rafe they know.
Trish sat on the edge of a booth, her feet flat on the floor, her eyes closed. Hoping that the world would stop spinning. Somebody had draped a blanket over her.
Maybe it had been Summer. Or Bray. Or maybe even Chase Hollister, who hadn’t even been on the job for six months. He was about to investigate his first murder.
Milo was dead. Knifed to death. Gutted like a fish. That was what she’d heard one of the volunteers from the fire and rescue squad say before Bray had grabbed his shirt collar and jerked him out of the room. The man had come back, said a quiet apology in her direction and been more respectful until Chase finally let them take Milo’s body from the scene. Of course, it had seemed like hours before they’d moved him off the cold ground. At some point, more police had arrived. They were still here. Portable lighting had been set up behind the café, making it look even more surreal.
The images in her head were disjointed. Opening the door, practically stumbling over the body. Blood. So much blood. Bray whipping the door open, pulling her back.
Thank goodness for Bray. He’d taken charge. She and Summer had been hustled back inside the café, where Keagan and Adie waited, scared to death that their aunt had been screaming. He must have called the police, too, because within minutes Chase Hollister had arrived, looking very serious.
At some point, Cal Hollister and his pretty wife, Nalana, had arrived and taken Summer and the kids away from all the ugliness. Her twin hadn’t wanted to leave, but she’d already thrown up three times and Bray had had enough. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Summer said, as Nalana was guiding her out of the door. “We need to talk about a funeral.”
Milo didn’t have family. It would be up to them. He wouldn’t want a funeral. And if he’d known about her trip, then he’d have been mad as hell at her if she canceled so that they could have one.
But funerals weren’t for the dead. They were for the living, to make it easier to say goodbye. They would definitely have a funeral.
* * *
THEN SHE HAD watched Summer and the kids leave. She wasn’t worried about them. Bray’s youngest brother, Cal, had been a Navy SEAL. Nalana, his new bride, was still an FBI agent.
She’d stared at the floor after that. Until she’d finally got so tired that she needed to close her eyes.
“Trish,” she heard someone say.
She wanted to ignore it, to pretend that the past several hours hadn’t happened. But that wasn’t an option.
She lifted her head. Chase was squatting down in front of her, his eyes full of concern.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
She licked her dry lips. “He was a good man,” she said, choosing to ignore the question. She wasn’t up to pretending that she was fine. She was so damn tired of always pretending that she was fine.
“Yes, he was,” Chase said. “And we will find the person who did this. I promise you.”
If anyone could, it was probably Chase. He’d been a cop in St. Louis before coming back to Ravesville, ostensibly to get his deceased parents’ house ready for sale but really to guard a key witness in a murder case. He’d done more than just guard the witness. He’d married her. And now Raney Hollister was one of Trish’s favorite people.
“Was
